


There is a Monster Attacking Jaskier

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Jaskier’s Monster [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, what is this plot of which you speak?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22210849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: There is a monster attacking Jaskier.Geralt kills monsters.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Jaskier’s Monster [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606360
Comments: 70
Kudos: 1597
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette, The Best Fics I've Read, witcher





	There is a Monster Attacking Jaskier

There is a monster attacking Jaskier.

“No song today, Bard?” Geralt says from where he is riding Roach. 

“I’m enjoying the quiet of the forest.”

“Julian Pankratz enjoying quiet.” Geralt chuckles, and brings Roach to a stop before looking over his shoulder to where the Bard is walking behind him. “Prayers finally answered.”

Geralt’s expression changes as he makes eye contact with Jaskier. The Bard can’t read it. Is it concern? Confusion? Maybe a mixture of both.

No, don’t tell Geralt. Pretend. Everything is fine. 

“ _ At the edge of the world.”  _ Jaskier begins, conscious of how his voice lacks its usual strength.  _ “Fight the mighty horde. That bashes and breaks you. And brings you to mourn _ .”

Geralt clicks his tongue, and Roach continues on. But he also keeps looking over his shoulder at the Bard as Jaskier sings quietly.

* * *

There is a monster attacking Jaskier.

Jaskier’s dreams are lonely. They are him sitting in an empty room, hugging himself tightly as the monster attacks him over and over with harsh thoughts and stinging tears and memories of the laughs and heckles and pointed fingers.

“No.”

Jaskier opens his eyes and immediately closes them again. The sun is rising. The start of another day. Another day waiting for the sun to set again. And walking. And talking. And smiling. And singing. And being happy-go-lucky Jaskier that won’t burden Geralt, but might still cause him to lose his patience or leave Jaskier abandoned. 

He wants to scream.

“Jaskier?” The gruff voice saying the nickname causes him to flinch, and he curls up a bit tighter. Find the strength. Find the strength. Just sit up, smile.

A least find the strength to speak. 

It was easier at first, but the fight to maintain Jaskier, the fight to laugh and perform, has been harder and harder. And now, today, he is laid in a bedroll and the sun is up and it’s too hard. 

It’s too much.

He moves the blanket, shivers as the cold air hits him. It hurts to sit up, his stomach is a knot and his legs feel like they’ve been replaced with stones. They move painfully in the struggle to get his weight on them. To stand. To pick up the bedroll. 

The smile on his face is made of paper. It will tear.

“Hmmm.” Geralt huffs as he takes the bedroll from Jaskier, attaching to to Roach and then turning back, a blanket in his hand. “Keep this on you. It’s a cold day.” He wraps the blanket around the bard’s shoulders, encouraging Jasker to grip the edges and hold it closed. 

The confused look on Jaskier’s face remains there as Geralt as good as picks him up, lifting him up onto the horse’s back. He slowly takes the bread that Geralt offers him, chewing quietly as the Witcher climbs up in front of the bard. 

“Come on, Roach.”

They walk slowly, cutting through the forest to the road. The bread is dust in Jaskier’s mouth, and his throat tightens as he swallows. Swallows again. Again.

No. He pulls the blanket up, wiping his eyes with it and praying that Geralt doesn’t look round. 

Roach stops walking, and Jaskier shakes his head.

“Lean forward.” Geralt says, gruffly. “Put your hands around my waist. I don’t want you falling off.”

Hands still holding the blanket, Jaskier does as he’s told, wrapping around the taller man and resting against his back, his head between Geralt’s shoulder blades. The blanket is warm against him. And Jaskier’s tears are warm against the armour.

Geralt’s hand is warm as it rests against Jaskier’s hand.

* * *

There is a monster attacking Jaskier.

Jaskier doesn’t fight it anymore. He closes his eyes, and time passes unnoticed, everything unnoticed except a thumb stroking the skin of his wrist.

The sun is fully risen now, and he can hear Geralt climbing down from Roach. 

“Look after him.” The voice is directed at the horse, who huffs as if in reply.

A knock. A door opening. 

“What can I be doing for you, Witcher?” An old woman’s voice. Jaskier imagines her with grey hair, wrinkles around kind eyes. Hands worn from hard work. 

“Need ribleaf for tea.”

“Will you be wanting water or dwarven spirit to mix?”

Geralt climbs back in the saddle, and this time he takes hold of Jaskier’s hands behind him, bringing them around his waist himself before riding on. 

They make camp on the edge of the forest, and Jaskier is helped down from Roach, sat on the ground with his back against a tree. The tea boils over the fireplace, and a wooden mug is placed in his hands.

He takes a sip. 

“No more travelling today. Just needed to get the ribleaf.” Geralt says. “Do you want to stay here. Or a tavern?”

Jaskier thinks of a tavern. A warm fireplace. A soft bed. The noise of the revelers, the smells, the people watching. Talking. Whispering behind his back and laughing and pointing and no no no...

Jaskier thinks of a forest. A warm campfire. He can just stay here and not do anything. Geralt is here. Geralt...

Geralt understands?

“Careful.” Geralt takes the mug before it spills into Jaskier’s lap, and holds it up to the bard’s lips and letting him take another few sips. The Witcher’s other hand presses against the back of the bard’s head. 

“How often do you get like this?”

“It...it comes and goes.” His voice falters. Geralt is being so... “It will go. It always does. I just…”

Geralt nods, and holds up the cup so Jaskier can sip more of the tea. 

“What will help?”

“This helps.” He takes the mug back from Geralt. “Thank you.”

Geralt nods, grunting slightly in affirmation. Then, when Jaskier doesn’t say anything else, the Witcher moves to sit beside him, and wraps his arms around his shoulders.

With his head against the witcher’s chest, Jaskier can hear his heartbeat. Inhumanely slow. A gentle thud marking the passage of time. Slow. Gentle. Arms around him, the taste of the tea. He closes his eyes, feeling...safe. 

It’s a feeling that he doesn’t recognise at first, it’s so alien. He’s not afraid. Not insecure. Not anxious. Is it the tea, or Geralt’s embrace? He doesn’t know. 

Maybe it’s both. 

The knot in his stomach has stopped hurting. It’s easier to swallow the tea. His eyes don’t burn. 

“Do you know what causes this?” Geralt is asking.

“It just...it just gets hard sometimes.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt nods. “You fight every day, you get wounded. You get tired. Sometimes, you’ve got to let someone fight for you. Rest behind them.”

Putting the empty mug on the ground, Jaskier closes his eyes, and lets himself be gently rocked back and forth as Geralt continues to hold him.

“At the edge of the world.” The Witcher doesn’t sing, but he can speak. He whispers the words into the Bard’s hair. “Fight the mighty horde. That bashes and breaks you. And brings you to mourn.”

This time, Jaskier doesn’t even try to hold back the tears. He cries, and struggles to speak around hiccoughs. He isn’t even conscious of what he is saying. His words are created without thought, desperate to escape and be heard. He needs to be heard and not judged. And the tears continue. And he is rocked. And embraced. And warm. And not judged. And finally he is exhausted, and the sun is past the middle of the sky, and his eyes are closed again. And he is still being rocked.

“This helps.” Jaskier’s smile is small, but it isn’t forced. “Thank you.”

That night, his bedroll is against Geralt's. And an arm is draped across him. And he doesn’t know if tomorrow will be better or worse, if he will be weaker or stronger against the monster. But it feels good to not be alone. To have someone to help him fight.

To fall asleep without dreading waking up.

* * *

There is a monster attacking Jaskier.

Geralt kills monsters. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] There is a Monster Attacking Jaskier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633209) by [Yuurei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuurei/pseuds/Yuurei)




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